


I Will Never Stop Falling In Love (Deancas)

by riotgorl_666



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas drives a Kia Soul, Cas is called Clarence for one and a half chapters, Dean doesn't pay taxes and has an android, Dean winchester works at mcdonald's, M/M, Sam is in Law school, Sam is stupid i Hate sam, Slow Burn, This is basically how I feel dean would turn out without the trauma, probably the least sexy fic you've read, this is really stupid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:15:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29571630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riotgorl_666/pseuds/riotgorl_666
Summary: Dean Winchester is twenty-Six and a Mcdonald's manager. He's fairly indifferent toward the way his life is. Castiel works at one of those shady phone service provider stores. Not for one of those good and normal phone services but one of those really terrible one's that's twenty dollars a month for a phone payment. Neither of them are that good with technology and they meet in three really strange ways and they probably end up falling in love.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, DeanCas, Destiel
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester liked to smile and pretend everything was fine. He smiled at Sam when he saw him every morning. He smiled at the gas station cashier when he would come in and purchase his beer and snacks for the road. He smiled at the lit up screen of his phone when he got the notification for bustyasianbeauties.com.   
"Dude I can't believe you have notifications on for a porn site," Sam said. He had his head craned over while he was squinting and intently watching the screen of his brother's cell phone.   
Dean yelped and fumbled his phone between his hands. The phone crashed onto the hardwood flooring of his apartment, the back detached and the battery was left dangling out of the phone.   
"You have to get a new phone, dude." Sam stated, his eyebrow was quirked as he made prolonged eye contact with his brother.  
Dean sighed and looked back down where his phone lay in three pieces. He started assembling it after letting out a sigh that started from deep in the bottom of his chest. "This was only forty dollars," he stated, he held up his phone for emphasis and shook it in the air adjacent to Sam's face, "forty dollars, dude." He dropped the phone on his bed and it bounced a couple of times, he maintained wide eyed eye contact with his brother.   
"The day you move out of my house and get a new phone, that'll be the day man," Sam said, he shook his head and wandered out of Dean's bedroom.   
Dean 'tssk'd and pressed his finger to the fingerprint reader on the back of his phone. His eyes widened when he realized that his phone screen was half lit up with green, the pixels at the bottom half of his screen were glitching out and flashing from one color to the next. "Dammit," he whispered under his breath. He collected his keys from his nightstand and threw on his leather jacket.   
"Sammy I'm going to the phone store!" He shouted in the vague direction of his brother. Sam was sitting on the withering red couch in his living room. There were glasses perched at the bottom of his nose. His nose was cradled in the spine of a deep red book. One of those classic books with just words on the cover, the canvas front was falling apart. Dean thought he looked so stupid. 

-

Dean's problem was that he didn't know what a "phone store" was. He bought his phone from a kiosk at the mall for some up and coming cheap ass phone service company. The kiosk was empty, his service was only twenty dollars a month and he thought that with his dead end, just slightly higher than minimum wage job, he could afford twenty dollars a month.   
Dean drove around the streets of well, everywhere within the twenty-five mile radius of his and Sam's apartment. He settled on this shady business that was attached to one of those strip malls that are built suspiciously close to a Walmart. It was called, like, "turbo phones" or something. He felt like the devices they sold there would be inexpensive and probably low quality. Dean had no use for high quality phones. He was kind of morally against them. It was kind of antithetical to his whole crusade against social media. He was nearly 40, it wasn't like he was an avid user of social media. He had no use. He liked to see what his friends were up to and that's why he used Facebook. He saw pictures of Charlie's wedding, or of Jody and the girls on their stupid little outings. Or pictures from Claire's highschool graduation party.   
He walked across the parking lot, his brown boots splashed across the puddles in the parking lot. It was one of those days during the transition of spring and winter where it's cold and it's rainy and the sky is grey. The ground was wet and the air had just begun to smell like snow, but not enough, like there were little pollen particles that were carried by the wind.   
Dean walked through the clear doors of the unfamiliar shop. There was a little bell fastened above the doors and when he walked in, it jingled. The carpeting was grey and the atmosphere was cold and empty and uncomfortable. Around the sides of the store, there were phones placed on these little displays. There were phone cases in little plastic baggies hanging from hooks below the displays. The walls were painted this obnoxious red and in front of his was a bright red counter with a computer screen and a cash register. This place was definitely a money laundering scheme.   
Dean heard a door open and he saw a man wearing a black polo shirt and grey slacks shuffling toward the register. The man said in a bored and low voice, "Hey welcome to turbo phones. How may I help you?"   
At this point, Dean had stepped close to the register and was at eye level with the pissed off appearing cashier. Dean looked at him, made eye contact, and then glanced down at the name tag fastened at the front of the guy's shirt. "Hey uh, Clarence."   
The guy, Clarence, rolled his eyes and sighed. He tapped his fingers against the counter where he stood and looked at Dean. Dean noticed that he was probably waiting for him to say something.   
"I broke my phone this morning," Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket, the phone was at least assembled. He turned it on and showed the screen to Clarence at the counter. The guy saw it and sighed.   
"So?" The guy at the counter asked. He huffed and braced his hands on the counter before him.   
"I need a new phone," Dean smiled. He Made this intent eye contact with Clarence and he was getting visually uncomfortable.   
"Huh," said Clarence, "people usually don't buy phones here."   
Dean smiled and walked out of the phone store with his new twenty dollar cell phone. It looked like a brick and the camera quality was maybe two pixels, but Dean was again too stubborn to invest in a high quality piece of technology  
-  
Dean pressed his foot to the gas pedal of his Impala. He sped off to his job, his head kept up and the smile on his face was bright.   
-  
Dean often said, prior to working at his job, that he would “rather be homeless than work at Mcdonald’s”. Honestly, one year ago Dean, if he saw him right now, would enact violence that he wouldn’t even know was possible; but there he stood on the crusty tiles of the Mcdonald’s floor. He had a stupid black ball cap with an embroidered M, and a black polo shirt that was just slightly too tight to be comfortable. He had a little plastic label on his shirt, pinned in, it saide“Manager” in a black heading and “Dean” in smaller, grey, less official looking text underneath it.   
Dean honestly thought that the pride he had in his work was somewhat embarrassing. Part of him always wanted to gloat about his manager position to the kids who work under him as their part time summer job. He always had to stop himself because he realized just how much of a loser he came off as. It was embarrassing. Truly.   
Despite that, Dean worked hard, he made floor plans and was in charge of other people and he worked for over ten hours every day. The job genuinely caused him to develop chronic back pain, all that walking and lugging boxes around was genuinely so much more labor intensive than the cushy office job that Sam had.   
Mindlessly, Dean stood, he handed out the wrinkled paper bags, the paper was addled with and the top was folded over. Eventually he felt a pang of recognition when he locked eyes with the man at his window.   
“Clarence.” Dean said, he smiled. It elicited what seemed like an uncomfortable response from Clarence, who rubbed his face.   
“Hello.” Carence said, he maintained this incredibly awkward and intense eye contact with Dean. Dean continued to lock eyes with the man at his drive-through window. Clarence blinked heavily and reached his hand out the window.   
“Oh,” Dean exclaimed and did an awkward little jog to the heated area where the food was kept, he grabbed his hamburger and his small coffee with twelve sugars. “Twelve sugars.” He said to Clarence, his eyebrows were raised and scrunched together. The corners of his mouth turned upwards.   
Clarence looked at him with a completely blank expression, “Yes.” He said. Dean sighed and Clarence drove off in his white Kia Soul slowly and in a way that was overly careful.   
Dean finished up the rest of his shift, as usual.   
-  
“So you're obsessed with a man who is involved in quite possibly the shadiest line of work I've ever heard of," Charlie said to Dean. Over the phone her voice sounded critical. Dean was sitting on his bed, legs crossed. His phone was on this incredibly quiet volume setting.   
Charlie was Dean's best friend. They had met in highschool after Dean was aggressively trying to persue her romantically. Eventually Dean realized, upon looking through the music Charlie had downloaded to her iPod their junior year, that Charlie was a lesbian. Her playlists were littered with Mitski and obscure riot grrl type music. She was gay.  
"It's not shady. He sells phones. I mean, I work at McDonald's," Dean explained with exaggerated hand motions.   
"Mcdonald's isn't shady. I mean it's an actual job."   
"It's whatever he's just. He's so. Damn. He drives a Kia Soul though and I genuinely don't know how to feel about that." Dean said, he twiddled his thumbs around in his hands.   
Charlie sighed audibly over the phone, "There's something seriously wrong with you, Dean Winchester."  
"Love you, Charlie." Dean stated with an exasperated breath.   
"I know." Charlie hung up the phone.   
Dean was left to sit among his own thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean buys milk

While Dean was flipping burgers at his job, the loud smoke sizzled and flooded his nostrils. He knew that when he walked out he would smell strongly of grease and the lingering scent of meat that he isn't quite sure was real. In the kitchen, he heard a familiar raspy voice echo through the store. A man was ordering through the drive through microphone, "A mcdouble and a small coffee. Yeah, twelve sugars, yeah, twelve No that's all."   
Dean couldn't help but think that maybe his magnetic attraction towards this man and his shitty car came from the fact that he had already seen him every day at work. He couldn't help but think that the other man's habit was extremely unhealthy. Dean understood eating McDonald's every day, hell, he ate McDonald's every day; but a small coffee with twelve sugars and no cream? That was absurd and potentially deadly. If anything Dean was concerned. Also Clarence specifically ordered the coffee at like, four thirty in the afternoon. This meant the coffee was always lukewarm and sitting in the pot for way too long. Dean Winchester was absolutely repulsed.  
-  
"No I'm not in love with him." Dean said, this exasperated tone in his voice, "I've literally spoken to him once. One time. That's it."   
Sam rolled his eyes, he was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. His black, blocky glasses were perched at the edge of his nose. He was doing that scrolling motion that's particular to old men and old men only.   
"I'm not in love with him," Dean said. He made this intense, bulging eye contact with his brother that made the other man shift, it made the sage green faux leather on the couch squeal. Until this moment Dean had never truly thought about how terrible the interior design in the apartment was. He jumped out of his wandering train of thought enough to give Sam another intense bout of eye contact.   
Sam coughed into his elbow and cleared his throat. He straightened his neck and gave Dean an almost equally discomfort inducing stare. “Dean I never mentioned him. In fact I’m not exactly sure who or what you’re talking about. You literally just stepped into the apartment and started yelling at me borderline incoherently.”   
Dean just stood on the rug in front of his brother in this terrible silence. He didn’t bother even a squeak of self defense. He just scratched the back of his neck and shifted from one foot to the other. “So,” he said, “I should quit my job.”  
“Yeah,” Sam chuckled, “please do something more respectable so you can move out of my apartment.”   
Dean crinkled his eyebrows, “But Sammy,” He said, patronizing, “don’t you just love me?” He popped out his bottom lip in a pout. Sam laughed and shook his head.  
Dean genuinely had no idea why he had suggested to his brother that he should quit his job. Dean had felt this indifference toward his job in Mcdonald’s management, He had been working there for close to a decade and it was semi embarrassing that he had to admit to other adults in adult conversations that he makes an hourly wage at a place full of teenagers. A place where he has to wear a specific pair of pants that were made of a material that was borderline paper. While the other people he met had these boring jobs where they wore beige and gelled their hair, Dean was thought of as a disappointment by his whole family as well as his old highschool teachers. Something in Dean yearned for a typical, heterosexual, nine-to-five office job.   
Dean then daydreamed about getting the man from the phone store’s number. Or maybe his Snapchat. Though in Dean’s opinion Clarence didn’t seem like the type of person to use Snap. Dean thought of what this guy’s free time may look like. Upon first impression Clarence gave off this stoic and bored energy. Something within him seemed lively though. He definitely seemed liked he smoked a lot of weed. Definitely a lot of weed. When Dean thought back to the few times he actually interacted with the other man he had seen his eyes tinged with redness and that stoned shininess. Dilated pupils in the center of those bright blue irises. On another hand, maybe he should text him.   
Dean spent a solid fifteen minutes scrolling through Instagram. The only information he had was "Clarence" so he searched that up in the little search bar that was perpetually at the top of the Instagram explore page. Eventually he found an account with the username Caztiel.Novakk_ the bio for the page just said "Clarence." Dean huffed. It was a public page and the profile photo was just a photo of Clarence's face that was very intensely zoomed in on a focus just between his eyes. There were exactly five posts with absolutely no theme. They were arranged in a way that was honestly nothing but an eyesore. The most recent one was from two days ago . It was this ugly, low quality and over exposed photo of the man drinking a coffee. He was obviously sitting in his car and he was wearing these gas station sunglasses and looking off nonchalantly into the distance. The one beside that was a picture of his white Kia Soul sitting alone in what was obviously a Walmart parking lot. The rest were just memes or photos of him and his friends.   
Dean laughed, this guy really obviously had no social media literacy. Though Dean couldn't really speak on that. His Instagram was full of grainy shirtless mirror selfies, pictures of the Impala, and random pictures of Sam or Charlie. Dean hit the blue follow button on Clarence's account. His hands quivered.   
-  
The wheels of the black sports car that Dean considered to be a plastic monstrosity were rumbling against the grainy tar on the road. Dean was sitting in the passenger's seat. Sam was driving, both hands on the wheel. There was no music playing in the car and Sam had this intense focus on the road. Dean was making tapping motions on his phone. He was looking through Clarence’s instagram photos. “Sammy,” Dean said, “Should I text the guy from that phone store.  
Sam sighed and closed his eyes for a second before focusing back on his driving.   
“I’m gonna text him, Sam.”  
-  
The aisles of the grocery store were stocked and Dean was tempted to grab a pie when him and Sam walked past the deli. Sam side eyed him, “We’re not spending my money on another pie. Dude I swear you eat like, one a day.”  
Dean pouted like a child, “Sammy, you’re like a lawyer. You’re rich.”  
“Go grab some nonfat milk from the fridges over there,” replied Sam. He pointed over to the direction of the fridges that held all of the eggs and perishable dairy.   
Dean trudged over to the fridges. He sighed beforehand. On his way he was shuffling and grumbling under his breath. He opened the fridge, tempted to draw little designs on the condensation that gathered on the plexiglass. He reached for the milk and on his hand’s journey forward he felt it brush up against a calloused hand.   
“Oh, uh, you can get it,” Dean said, he cleared his throat and took a couple of steps away from the fridge.   
The man reaching for the milk looked at him, and Dean saw a glance of shockingly familiar blue eyes. “I keep on seeing you. This is strange but I feel like I’ve seen you everyday for a while.”   
Dean gulped, “I’m not following you I promise.” He said it a little bit too quickly for it to not sound suspicious. Although, the other man either didn’t seem to notice or he simply decided to brush it off. For a second, Dean considered that maybe he was one of those guys who found it endearing when their partner was ‘crazy’. Back when Dean used to date women he talked to Charlie about it and said “I like it when girls are crazy because that means they’re like, crazy for me.”  
Dean noticed that Clarence stood there, in front of Dean, in front of the nonfat milk segment of the grocery store. His feet stood still in his faux-leather dress shoes that were planted so harshly on the tile of the grocery store.   
Clarence cleared his throat audibly, “I’m going to give the number to my, uh, Telephone.”  
Dean stood wide eyed for a beat. He then shook his head and chuckled. He said, “Yeah. Okay.” He turned his phone on and swiped until he reached his contacts. He passed his phone to the man across from him. He stood and typed into the allotted slots in the contacts app. He was taking a long time typing, it made Dean feel uncomfortable and shift between his feet. Clarence gave Dean his phone back and made a brief moment of eye contact. Afterwards he walked away in this power walk-shuffle type movement.   
That was the moment when Dean finally decided to fully take the other man’s appearance in. He made incredibly questionable fashion choices. He was wearing this near ankle length beige trench coat and a white button up shirt. Dark slacks were stretched over his legs that looked so nice on his body. Dean noticed at that point that he was attracted to the man that had walked away from him. Also that he genuinely couldn’t be heterosexual. No straight male would wear a trench coat. Unless he was a vampire, or a potential school shooter. Dean was hoping that Clarence wasn’t either of those things. Though Dean did enjoy the thought of Clarence as a vampire. He thought it was kind of sexy.   
After longingly staring at the man in front of him to the point that was nearly uncomfortable, and bordering on indecent, Dean decided to take a look at his phone screen. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the text that was typed in the little white boxes on the contacts app. Castiel, the name read on the screen. The digits of the phone number were typed directly under it. He was confused about the name. He knew him as Clarence. Dean just assumed that he misread the name and decided to approach the gallons of milk again. He realized that he forgot to grab it. Dean did this little jumpy walk in the direction of Sam who was pushing the cart around the boxed food aisle. His hair was neatly tucked behind his ears as he seemingly looked at the different boxes of rice cakes near the bottom shelf. Everything in the cart either said low calorie, vegan, or non-fat.   
Dean was still really jumpy when he walked towards his brother. His phone was in a loose grip on his palm. He gave his brother a side-eye and looked at the cart and then the shelf that he was staring at. He noticed that Sam would look at the shelf, and then check the ingredients of each food item. He would lift up each box and then compare each item to the one next to it.   
“Dude,” Dean said, he looked at the boxes and then looked at Sam again.   
“What?” Sam had this bite in his tone that took Dean by no surprise. Sam was so high strung lately and Dean thought that he maybe just needed to get laid. Dean and Sam made eye contact and looked at the shelf. Then Dean’s eyes drifted toward the cart and then back to Sam. He looked back at the shelf. Sam finished the exchange by giving him a side eye.   
“Anyways,” Dean said, “I got the guy’s number.”  
“Okay,” Sam said, He continued walking down the aisle.


End file.
